


Like a Phoenix

by TempestuousSerenity



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Bigotry & Prejudice, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Eventual Smut, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Politics, Post-Canon, Rating May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:09:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21941932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TempestuousSerenity/pseuds/TempestuousSerenity
Summary: Anyone could rebuild a city, but only Lio Fotia could rebuild a society.The story of how Lio became governor of Promepolis.
Relationships: Lio Fotia & Gueira & Meis, Lio Fotia/Galo Thymos
Comments: 21
Kudos: 87





	1. Floundering in the Ashes

**Author's Note:**

> My beta reader is on vacation, so...bear with me, guys.

Lio never used to drink coffee. He had always been a tea-drinker, and besides, as long as he had been Burnish, the Promare had supplied him with an extra burst of fiery energy. No caffeine necessary.

But the Promare were gone now, and so were Lio’s tea-drinking days.

And so Lio sat, sipping coffee at Galo's too-small table in his too-small kitchen as Galo stirred his cornflakes across from him in complete silence.

Mornings like these had become commonplace. Lio had to be at work by 7 o’clock sharp, and Galo left for Burning Rescue not long after. Since they both worked from sunrise to sunset and sometimes neither of them ended up coming home, breakfast was one of the few times they could spend together.

Lio watched as Galo continued to stir his cereal, never once lifting the spoon to his mouth.

"Galo, if you need to take some time off to, you know, _process_ , it's okay. Everyone understands."

Galo looked up from his cereal, dark circles under his eyes standing out against his unnaturally pale skin. "You're one to talk, Big Boss."

Lio sighed. He knew he probably looked just as bad as Galo did, but _still._ This was _Galo_.

Lio thought about continuing his argument. He would have no trouble continuing it. He could bring up how just last night, he had to shake Galo from a nightmare. If he did, though, then Galo would just bring up how he had to do the same for Lio the night before, and they'd keep going back and forth like that until they both got so tired they couldn't stand it.

So Lio decided to drop it. He tipped back his mug, drank the last of his coffee, and got up from his chair to set the empty mug in the sink.

On his way out of the kitchen, Lio stopped behind Galo's chair. Galo turned to meet him and Lio gently raised a hand to cup his face, fanning his thumb across Galo's cheek.

When Lio offered him a small smile, Galo couldn't help but return it.

"You hang in there. Are we clear, Thymos?"

"Yessir." Galo brought his hand up to cover Lio's own, his eyes softening in the way they only did for Lio. "You hang in there, too."

Lio's heart fluttered. "I'll make sure to."

* * *

Promepolis had changed a lot since Lio and Galo had saved the earth nearly a year ago. The most obvious change was the shift in leadership. All signs of Foresight’s regime were starting to fade by now, though traces still remained if you knew where to look. With the Foresight Foundation destroyed and Freeze Force wiped out, Burning Rescue had been next in the line of succession. Burning Rescue chiefs from every unit had come together to form a provisional government that would stand until free elections could resume.

In the meantime, Burning Rescue’s field workers had been tasked with relief work in lieu of fighting Burnish flames. Galo, Aina, Lucia, and the rest of Burning Rescue had spent the past year rebuilding the city and bringing supplies to the Burnish who were still living in refugee camps. There was talk of a plan to tear down Parnassus soon, too.

Lio Fotia, former enemy of the state, was, strangely enough, now considered an upstanding Promepolis citizen. He supposed he had Ignis to thank for that, since he had been the one who had insisted that all former Mad Burnish members be granted amnesty.

Then, as if the legal pardon had not been enough, Ignis had practically handed Lio a job. “Chief of Burnish Integration”—that was his official title now. It sounded so stuffy compared to his old title of “Boss,” even though nothing had changed about the kind of work he was doing. Admittedly, though, there was a lot more paperwork involved now. Lio arranged housing and IDs for the Burnish, made sure that each Burnish had enough food and supplies, advocated for anything they might need, and helped the investigation prepare for Foresight’s trial, as well as the trials of those who had been part of his administration.

Some changes were not as obvious, but no less radical. For example, Lio had a home now, a small apartment that he shared with Galo Thymos. He was cold all the time, and often found his energy waning without the Promare to keep him going. Lio was even a coffee drinker now, apparently. That was very new.

But some things never changed. Lio was reminded of that when he walked into his office and Gueira and Meis greeted him with familiar smiles.

Lio's office, which doubled as Gueira and Meis's office, was really just a former study room in the archives section of the Promepolis library. The three had commandeered the space to start documenting the names of departed Burnish. In truth, this was their “unofficial” office. Lio had an official one at Burning Rescue headquarters, though he hardly ever used it anymore. Once the immediate needs of the Burnish had been attended to, they had needed quick access to the archives and had holed themselves up in the library study room and worked nonstop from sunset to sunrise, slaving away to create a definitive list of casualties. By the time Heris' trial rolled around, they had identified 20,000 Burnish who had been killed in experiments and 10,000 others who had died in Freeze Force custody over the years. Depressingly enough, the list continued to grow, even after the trials were over.

“A little late today, huh, Boss. Sleep in?”

“ _Au contraire_ , I’m right on time. You two are just early.”

Gueira sniggered, and Meis gave him a reprimanding swat.

Lio ignored them as he walked to his desk, which was really just a large mahogany table cluttered with stacks upon stacks of books and papers. Seeing Lio sling his bag down and take out his laptop, Meis and Gueira took it as their cue and moved to their own desks that were situated on either side of Lio’s.

As if a switch had been flipped, the lighthearted atmosphere was replaced with a more somber one. A part of Lio wished they could all continue to chat and joke while they worked, but the nature of their work would not allow it. Such was the reality they lived in, and probably always would.

Lio sat down in his chair, flipping open his laptop as Meis and Gueira followed suit. This was going to be another long day.

* * *

"So, how are things going between you and the firefighter idiot?"

It was lunchtime, and the three sat around Lio’s desk in a tight circle, trying to think about anything but their grim work.

Lio sucked in a breath. "As good as they can be, considering."

Gueira and Meis nodded sympathetically. The entirety of Promepolis was still reeling from the series of trials that saw Heris, Biar, Vulcan, and of course, Kray, sentenced for their crimes.

Lio pursed his lips. "Galo's not taking it well. I think that seeing all that evidence was too much for him." And there had been a lot of evidence. Very _graphic_ evidence. In addition to their ledger of over 30,000 names, there were over 600 hours of experimentation footage plus eyewitness testimony. And then Galo had to testify against Kray. He hadn't cried on the stand, but he'd cried in Lio's arms afterward. "I'm concerned about him."

Gueira pat him on the shoulder. “He has you, Boss. He’ll get through this.”

Lio frowned, but accepted the reassurance.

Meis let out a breath and leaned back in his chair. "I still can't believe the trials are over."

"Thank God," Gueira said.

Lio still felt icky whenever he remembered the courtroom, the images from last week still vivid in his mind. Heris, sentenced to 80 years in prison—a sentence reduced from 135 years thanks to her cooperation with the investigation. Vulcan, sentenced to 120 years. Biar, 100 years.

Kray Foresight, sentenced to life.

Lio was not generally a supporter of the death penalty, but in Kray’s instance, he had been willing to make an exception. But maybe it was a good thing that Kray had escaped the death sentence. He had no idea how Galo would have taken it.

Still, Lio was pleased with the overall outcome of the trials. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start. A step in the right direction. Justice had been served, just as he had wanted.

So why didn’t it feel like it?

“It’s a relief. It is. The trials were a small victory for us,” Lio conceded. “But…”

“But…?” Meis and Gueira both prompted.

Lio clenched his fists. "I just…” He tilted his head back, looking at the ceiling. “I wish there was more I could do."

Meis and Gueira exchanged a look.

"About that, boss," Gueira began, an uncharacteristically cautious edge to his voice. "I hear free elections are gonna start up again soon."

"So I hear."

Meis gave Gueira a thumbs up.

"Some possible candidates for governor are already starting to step forward."

"Is that so."

“Yeah.”

Lio threw his generals a pointed look. “Your point?”

“Well, Boss,” Gueira looked to Meis for one last push of confidence. “We think you should run.”

There was an uncomfortable beat of silence, and then Lio laughed, _hard_. Only when Meis and Gueira didn’t join in did realization begin to dawn on him.

“Wait…you’re serious.”

“Very.”

Lio was speechless. “Wh-I… _W_ _hat?”_

“Boss, there’s no one else the Burnish would rather have representing them. You would be able to get new legislation through so much faster than you could as the ‘Chief of Integration’ or whatever slapdash title you have now!”

“Gueira, please.”

“No, I agree with Gueira,” Meis said, butting in. “You should run.”

“What has gotten into you two? You know I hate politicians. I thought you two were with me on this.”

“Well, it’s different if it’s _you_.”

Lio couldn’t even wrap his mind around the image of himself as a _politician,_ of all things. When he tried to picture himself in Kray’s place, it just didn’t click. Lio snorted. “Guys, I am _not_ running for governor.”

“But Boss–!” Gueira whined.

Lio cut him off with a look. “I will not be running for governor and that’s final. Now, I don’t want to hear either of you bring up this topic again. Understood?”

“Yes, Boss,” his generals chorused, hanging their heads.

Lio sighed, reaching out to ruffle their hair. “I appreciate that you think so highly of me.” When Gueira and Meis looked up, Lio offered them a crooked smile to let them know their Boss wasn’t mad. “Now, lunch break is over. Let’s get back to work.”

* * *

When Lio got back to his apartment, it was dark.

Because he could never tell anymore whether or not that meant Galo was home, he padded his way over to their room and peered through the half-open door. The light from the hallway didn’t quite reach the bed, but after a moment Lio’s eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough to see Galo curled up under the covers, his back facing the door.

Feeling his heart clench painfully, Lio closed the door softly and flicked the hallway light off, making his way back to the kitchen. When he threw open the fridge, he found it nearly empty. There wasn’t even any leftover pizza from Galo’s dinner, which Lio had become accustomed to coming home to every night. Had Galo even eaten? Lio would have to ask him tomorrow.

How strange; before, it had always been Galo asking Lio that question.

With cold pizza ruled out, Lio picked a cup of easy macaroni and cheese from the pantry, filled it with water, and popped it in the microwave.

As he waited for his food to cook, the words of his generals floated back to him.

“ _Boss, there’s no one else the Burnish would rather have representing them.”_

Honestly, that had been so out of left field. He would have expected a suggestion like that from Burning Rescue, maybe even from some Burnish, but not from his generals. Right now, Lio was doing the work the Burnish really needed him to do as the Chief of Burnish Integration. A governor couldn’t focus solely on Burnish issues; they would have to think about the city-state of Promepolis as a whole. Yes, Lio was already right where he was supposed to be.

The microwave dinged, tearing Lio from his thoughts. He didn’t wait for it to cool at all, welcoming the hot sting on his palms as he removed the cup from the microwave. Jabbing his fork into the cheap pasta, he stirred the cheese in.

Really–Him? Governor? Lio shook his head at the absurdity of the idea and shoveled a forkful of macaroni into his mouth.

* * *

As the weeks passed, Lio soon forgot about the whole governor thing.

That’s why he was completely startled to hear it brought up again several weeks later when he was out on a routine inspection of the Burnish refugee camp.

At first, the camp had been huge, tents spanning for miles. As time passed, though, the camp’s numbers dwindled as Burnish returned to the homes of their non-Burnish family members or were gradually settled in government-funded housing complexes. For those who remained in the camp, tents were eventually replaced by temporary buildings. As of Lio’s current inspection, only about one hundred Burnish remained in the camp, and they were expected to receive their housing assignments within the next month.

Lio had barely dismounted his motorcycle in front of the camp’s administrative building when he heard a sharp cry of, “It’s Lio! The Boss is here!” and a group of kids rushed up to him.

Lio smiled fondly as he tucked his helmet under his arm.

Out of all his duties as Chief of Burnish Integration, he liked this one the best. Being able to talk with his people one-on-one was much different from handling their cases on paper. He liked seeing the human side of his work.

“Cyril, Theo,” he ruffled the hair of the two boys closest to him. “How are you guys doing?”

"Great, Boss!"

“And the rest of you?”

Twelve voices shouted at once, but it was clear that the general consensus was overwhelmingly positive.

“That's wonderful to hear. Now, I bet you all are dying to hear about your future houses."

The kids quieted immediately and, if possible, crowded in closer, as if to better hang onto every word Lio would utter.

Lio allowed himself a chuckle, amused by the spectacle. "All of your families’ houses are being built as we speak. And in addition to the usual perks, I pulled a few strings so that this next housing complex will come with extra large water heaters. That way, you can take hot baths for as long as you want," Lio said with a wink.

"How hot will the water go?" Theo asked, a little shyly.

"As hot as you want."

The kids turned to each other and exchanged excited glances.

"Since they're still under construction, unfortunately, most of you will have to wait just a little longer, but,” Lio reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a handful of Pop Rocks. There were a few delighted gasps. “I hope these will make the wait more bearable.”

When he visited, Lio always brought candy for the Burnish children still in the refugee camp. The kids seemed to love the Pop Rocks the most, perhaps because the fizzy candy reminded them of the sparking of their Promare. Lio was quite privy to them, himself.

Lio crouched down so that he was on their level and started handing out packets of Pop Rocks. Once every child had one, Lio opened a packet for himself and dumped the contents in his mouth, reveling in the crackling sensation. Then he turned to the boy nearest to him, his features schooled into a serious expression that might have been comical considering the racket of Pop Rocks surrounding them. “General Cyril, report.”

Cyril gave an exaggerated salute. “Yessir. All is well in camp. There are more than enough supplies, and all the heaters are oper...opera–”

“Operational,” Lio supplied.

“Yeah! The heaters are ‘operationable’ and very warm. Oh, and also,” Cyril’s voice rose in excitement. “My mom and I just got our housing assignment yesterday, so we’ve been packing up! Mom says we leave in two days!”

Lio listened intently, nodding along. “That’s good to hear. Wonderful work, General Cyril.”

Cyril positively beamed. “Will you still visit once we move in to our house?”

“Of course. I’m going to be pretty busy in the coming months, so I don’t think I’ll be able to visit as often...but what kind of boss would I be if I didn’t make time for my hardworking generals?”

Cyril let out a whoop. “That’s okay, I understand! Governor work _will_ be pretty tough, after all!”

Lio’s mind ground to a halt.

_Governor?_

“Mom won’t stop talking about the election. She says you’ll make everything better for us.”

Cyril kept rambling, but Lio didn’t catch much of it. His mind was still caught on that one word.

“I think that’s super cool of you, Boss. You’re always helping everyone.” Cyril took a fistful of his shirt and fiddled with it bashfully. “I know I’m still little and stuff, but I was thinking that one day, you know... when I’m all grown up, I can...I can be just like you!”

_I can be just like you!_

_I can be just like you!_

_I can be just like you!_

The words pierced through the static in Lio's head and echoed around until their meaning finally sunk in. Snapping himself from his stupor, Lio forced a warm smile onto his face. “I have no doubt you will.”

The grin Lio received was nearly blinding.

Lio usually spent his entire day at the camp on inspection days, but he cut his trip a little short this time, staying only for the most necessary check-ins.

* * *

Lio sat in front of the TV that evening, mind whirling.

He had been paying attention to the election before, of course, but maybe not as closely as he should have been. Regardless of who got elected, he had intended to continue tending to the Burnish’s every need through his position as Chief of Burnish Integration.

Now Lio watched with dread pooling in his stomach as the local news station introduced one of the candidates who had stepped forward. He was a millionaire, some business lawyer with an incredible track record and a silky-smooth voice. He was one of Kray’s selected 10,000, no doubt. The man himself was so very Kray-like, and it made Lio’s skin crawl.

God, he hated politicians.

For the first time, Lio considered what it would be like to be Chief of Burnish Integration under Governor Despótis, or whatever his name was. It would certainly involve a lot of pushiness on his part, a lot of pushing and pushing and never getting his way. Maybe he’d even get fired from his position altogether. Could the governor do that?

And for the first time, it occurred to Lio that it didn’t have to be that way.

He was used to it, pushing relentlessly against authority to secure the most basic of rights. Maybe he was too used to it, resigned to thinking that was how it would always be for him. But what if Lio _was_ the authority?

A Burnish occupying the highest government position, huh. What kind of message would that send to Promepolis? What about to the other Burnish? Cyril’s beaming smile immediately came to mind. As governor, Lio could set an example—for Cyril, for the Burnish, for Promepolis in its entirety. Lio knew it would take time to dismantle the prejudice and discrimination the Burnish faced, but normalizing the idea that Burnish could be governors would be a huge step in the right direction.

Anyone could rebuild a city, but only Lio Fotia could rebuild a society.

God, he was starting to sound like a crazy person. “Lio Fotia” and “politician” were not words that should even be in the same sentence, let alone associated with each other.

Switching off the TV, he decided to sleep on it. Maybe he would change his mind by the next morning.

* * *

Lio did not change his mind by the next morning. In fact, the idea had started to grow on him.

That was not to say that Lio didn’t have his reservations. While Lio could think of several solid points that would make running for governor seem like a good idea, giving in to that reasoning felt like a betrayal of a very intrinsic part of himself. It felt as if his mind was telling him “yes” but his heart was very adamantly screaming “no.”

Because Lio couldn’t stand feeling indecisive, he put the decision in his people’s hands. It only seemed right, since if he did end up running, he would be running for them.

The late afternoon sun filtered in through the dirty glass of the windows, falling in slats across Lio’s face. Lio hardly took notice of it as he stood before the living room window overlooking the street below, too preoccupied with ignoring the cinder block that had settled itself in the pit of his stomach. Besides waiting, there was only one thing left to do.

When Galo walked in the door, he nearly jumped when he noticed Lio standing there.

“Lio! I didn’t think you’d be home this early.”

“Galo,” Lio turned around, his chest already feeling lighter just from looking at him. “I wanted to make sure I’d catch you before you fell asleep. Do you have a minute?”

Whether it was because of his words or something in his voice, Galo suddenly looked apprehensive. Lio had half a mind to assuage his fears, but to be fair, what he was about to say was really pretty terrifying.

Galo stood still where he was, making no move to sit down or get closer to Lio, as if standing there and bracing himself for whatever was coming. “Yeah. Yeah, of course. What is it, firebug?”

“Galo, I…I’m thinking about running for governor.”

Galo just stared back at him, slack-jawed, like his mind couldn’t even begin to process the meaning of those words. Like he couldn’t believe that Lio Fotia was saying them. Hell, even Lio Fotia himself could hardly believe he was saying them.

“But I’m only going to if the Burnish decide that they want me to,” Lio rushed on. “I’ve asked Gueira and Meis to conduct a popularity poll among the Burnish for me. Depending on the results of that poll, I may end up…” He trailed off. “I just wanted you to know.”

Galo exhaled, bringing up a hand and running it through his hair. “Wow, Lio, that’s… _wow_.”

“Does that bother you?” Lio was suddenly conscious of what that title, “governor,” probably meant to Galo.

Galo didn't answer at first, as if taking a moment to consider. When he finally did answer, though, he sounded sure. “No. Not if it’s you.”

Lio felt the corner of his mouth tick upward ever so slightly. How Galo could say such sweet things so honestly was beyond him. He crossed the room to stand before Galo, taking his face in his hands. Galo melted into the touch, leaning down without Lio even having to tell him. Even with the help, Lio still had to stand on his tip-toes to press a kiss to Galo’s mouth. The feeling of their lips moving against each other was heaven, and all Lio could think about was how much he had missed this.

When they pulled apart, they kept their faces close together, their noses nearly touching.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” Lio asked, just above a whisper.

“Hey, how can I complain? I can’t think of a more capable person in all of Promepolis.”

“We don’t know yet whether or not I’m really gonna run, you know.”

Galo gave him a knowing look, and there was a very familiar spark in his eyes, one that Lio hadn’t seen since before the trials. “Whatever you say, Big Boss.”

Lio couldn’t stop himself from diving in for another kiss.

* * *

When Gueira and Meis showed up at his door and handed him the thick, yellow-orange envelope three weeks later, Lio knew what it was without even having to open it.

Lio nodded at them, suddenly feeling very serious indeed, before taking the envelope and closing the door. He made his way to the kitchen as if in a daze, the envelope in his hand feeling much heavier than any envelope ought to. Plopping down perhaps a little too hard in his chair with the fading blue paint, he gingerly set the envelope on the table, but he couldn’t bring himself to open it.

Gueira and Meis had promised that even though they were conducting the poll, they would not look at the results until their boss saw them, and Lio trusted them. It was an electronic polling station, he’d heard, that would count the votes. All his generals did was slap the results in an envelope. This was as objective a vote as Lio could pull together, and the results he would find would be the Burnish’s true will.

What was he doing prolonging this?

Steeling his resolve, Lio reached out and undid the clasp on the envelope, running his fingers beneath the sealed flap until he could reach inside. Gently, he pulled the stack of papers out and laid them on the table.

Once Lio had peeled back the cover page, he picked up the first page and started to read.

His breath caught in his throat.

99.4%. That was how many Burnish wanted Lio to run for governor. That was almost one hundred percent unanimity. Unheard of. Yet there it was, staring right back at Lio. The Burnish wanted Lio to represent them, to represent Promepolis for them.

He went through the rest of the documents, reading summaries upon summaries of the same information. When he had finished, he slumped in his chair, staring vacantly at the graph of the poll results, his stomach, strangely enough, feeling as though it had uncoiled itself from the knot it had tied itself into as of late.

Lio didn’t know how long he had been sitting there, but it must have been awhile, because eventually Galo came home from work. When he found Lio sitting at their tiny kitchen table, papers spread all around him, Galo’s face fell and his brow furrowed.

“Lio? Is everything okay?”

Lio couldn’t speak, so he just handed the letter to Galo so he could see for himself.

“Lio, this is…!” Galo’s eyes widened as he took in the words on the page. “So does this mean you’re going to…”

Lio laughed, feeling light. “I don’t even own a suit.”


	2. Making it Official

Lio hummed as he examined himself in the mirror, turning around and craning his neck to get a better look at how suit number 21 looked on him from behind. This suit was jet-black and double-breasted, with buttons that glinted like obsidian. Lio had to admit: it wasn’t half bad.

“That one looks great on you, Boss. Makes you look sharp,” Meis remarked.

“You say that about every suit I try on.”

“Well, it’s _true_.”

When Gueira came out of the dressing room, Meis’s focus shifted to him. Left alone, Lio gave another turn. They’d been shopping for suits for three hours, and by now all these suits were starting to look the same to him. He was at the point where he just wanted to pick one and call it a day. Gueira and Meis, on the other hand, still seemed to be enjoying themselves thoroughly.

“Does this one make my butt look fat?” Gueira asked, dead serious.

“In a good way,” Meis assured him.

“Sweet.”

As much as he enjoyed hanging out with Gueira and Meis, today, watching them interact only made Lio feel Galo’s absence more acutely. Galo was supposed to be there with them, but he had been called in to work at the last minute. It was a shame; Lio would have liked to see him in a suit other than the one Ignis had loaned him for the trials.

As Gueira and Meis went in search of a second full-length mirror, Lio looked at the price tag on his suit and felt his stomach drop. This was one of the cheapest suits he could find that didn’t _look_ cheap, yet it was still so expensive. _It’s an investment, an investment_ , he reminded himself, but it did little to soothe his turning stomach.

“Are you all finding everything alright?”

“Yes. I’ve just about made my decision,” Lio answered, turning around to face the owner of the voice. He had expected to come face to face with a random sales assistant, but was taken by surprise when he was met with a familiar face. “Reatha?”

“Boss?” Reatha’s professionalism evaporated immediately. “Wow, it really _is_ you,” she gushed, her voice taking on a tone of ease and reverence, a combination that might seem contradictory to anyone outside the Burnish circle. “Imagine seeing you here.”

“Small world,” Lio said, but his eyes were drawn to her left hand, or rather, where her left hand should have been. Nothing remained but a stump that ended halfway up her forearm. If Lio’s memory served, she had worked as a seamstress in the Burnish settlement, and he did not remember that being there before. It had to be from the Parnassus. “I take it you work here?”

“Yep! I’m saving up to reopen my own shop, but in the meantime, I’m working here. I’m really thankful to be working with clothes again–guess I’m one of the lucky ones.”

“It’s good to hear you’re doing well.” If Reatha noticed how Lio’s gaze lingered on her stump, she didn’t say anything.

“So have they made a choice yet, or…?”

Lio’s eyes followed the direction she indicated until they settled on Gueira and Meis, who were quite busy trying to wrestle Gueira out of a suit jacket that was several sizes too small.

Lio’s cheeks burned. “I’m so sorry for them. I’ll pay for anything they damage.”

Reatha laughed good naturedly. “No, you’re all good. Since they still seem to be making their final decisions, why don’t we get you squared away. Is that suit the one you’re going with?” she asked, gesturing to the suit Lio wore.

“Yes, I believe so.”

“It’s a great choice, Boss. It suits you well.”

Lio nodded. “You do tailoring here, right?”

“It’ll add a little to the bill, but yes.”

“That’s fine.”

“Okay then! We can get on that right away, let me just get my pins...”

Reatha took a pin cushion with a wristlet from her belt and snapped it around the stump of her left forearm.

Lio was hit by a pang of guilt. “Oh, you do the tailoring yourself?”

“Yeah! It’s the fun part of the job.”

Lio had been referring to her hand. The last thing he wanted to do was to make her perform a two-handed task with only one and cause her difficulty. Reatha’s enthusiasm was tangible, though, and Lio didn’t have the heart to stop her.

Reatha walked around him in a circle, appraising the suit. “Hmm...It’s a pretty close fit. We’ll probably just have to hem the trousers and take the jacket and waistcoat in a bit around your torso.” Lio let Reatha stick several pins through the fabric to mark where she would sew. She was a bit slower with only one hand, but she managed. Once Reatha was finished with him, she moved on to Gueira and Meis, who had finally pulled themselves together and picked out suits, miraculously without destroying any.

When all three were back in their casual clothes and standing before the register, Lio asked, “When can we pick up the suits?”

“The alterations should be finished about two weeks from now.” Reatha paused. “Is that okay? Sorry it’s a little slower than usual–”

“That’s perfectly okay. Take as much time as you need; we’re in no rush.”

The anxious look that had begun to creep into her expression vanished. “In that case, we’ll call you when they’re ready for pickup.”

“Thank you, Reatha.”

Reatha smiled. “No, thank you, Boss. Really, thank you.”

Lio got the feeling she wasn’t just talking about the purchase.

* * *

Galo leaned against the kitchen doorframe, smiling softly as he watched Lio lace up his shoes in their apartment’s entryway.

“What?” Lio demanded, standing up and brushing off his slacks once his shoes were tied.

“You look really good in that suit.”

“...Thanks.”

Galo continued to stare at him, that same dopey grin on his face.

“Is there something you needed from me?”

“Not in particular,” Galo said. “Can’t I stare at my boyfriend just because?”

Lio straightened, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious. “It’s just a suit.”

“Nah. Nothing you wear is ever ‘just’ a suit.”

Lio huffed. “You’re doing this on purpose.”

“Maybe a little.”

Luckily, Lio was getting better at reading Galo and the way he was clinging to him like an adoring puppy could only mean one thing. “If you’re so excited, why aren't you in your suit, yet, Mr. Firefighter?”

An uncomfortable look ghosted across Galo’s face, but he smothered it just as quickly as it appeared, replacing it with a boisterous grin. “I’ve still got some stuff to do before you give your speech, so I didn’t wanna get it dirty. I’ll put it on right before I go.”

Lio looked at the clock. “Galo, I go onstage in two hours. You’re still coming, right?”

“Of course I’m coming! What kind of boyfriend do you think I am?”

Lio might have chuckled if an icy sliver of worry hadn’t wedged itself into his chest. “What do you possibly have to do in the next hour that’s so important? You’re always either working or sleeping these days, even on weekends. Don’t you think it’s time for a break?”

“I’m a busy guy, Lio! There’s so much to do, and only 24 hours in a day, so I can’t waste a single minute. You know how it is.”

“You sure you’re not just trying to keep yourself busy to distract yourself?” Galo’s face fell, and Lio knew he had hit the nail on the head. “Galo, you can’t keep doing this forever.”

Galo didn’t even bother to make himself sound cheerful anymore. “You do the same thing.”

“You know what, never mind, we are not having this conversation right now.” Lio put his hands in the air, exasperated. “Sorry I brought it up.”

Of course, right when he was about to give one of the most important speeches of his life, Lio goes and opens _this_ can of worms. The conversation left a bad taste in his mouth, and Lio grimaced, straightening his suit. “Well...I’m off. See you later.”

“Hey, Lio, wait.”

The tone of Galo’s voice made Lio stop dead in his tracks with his hand frozen on the doorknob.

“You too. Since even before the trials, you’ve been dragging.”

“What are you getting at?”

“You know, you don’t have to run for governor. If you need a break from taking care of everyone...that’s okay. Everyone will understand”

Lio strengthened his grip on the doorknob. “If me becoming governor can help the Burnish, then I will pursue the position until it’s mine.”

Galo chuckled, but it lacked mirth. “I have no doubt you will. But,” Galo’s stare was intense, and Lio could feel it boring into the back of his head. “Is it what _you_ want?”

“Yes.” The word left Lio’s mouth without him even having to think about it, and Lio was taken aback by the firmness in his own voice. He turned around to face Galo, wanting him to see the conviction in his eyes.

Lio’s message seemed to reach him. Galo’s shoulders relaxed a little, a fraction of the uncharacteristic worry draining from his expression. The smile he gave Lio now was warm. “You’re gonna do great.”

“I know.”

* * *

When Lio arrived at the venue where he would formally announce his involvement in the upcoming election, Gueira and Meis were already there to greet him just inside the revolving front doors.

“Did you ride your motorcycle here?” Meis asked, taking in Lio’s slightly disheveled appearance.

“And you two did the same, apparently,” Lio said, noting their similarly mussed hair.

Gueira grinned. “Nothing a little finger-combing won’t fix.”

“Damn straight.”

As they made their way to the bathroom to straighten up, Lio admired the building’s interior. It was an opera house they’d rented out, one that could seat about one thousand people. It was much smaller than he would have preferred, but as it turned out, election campaigns were expensive, especially if you were running as an independent. They were lucky that they’d found a space at all; truly, the situation had been looking pretty grim until a friend of a friend of a friend had hooked them up with the owner of this opera house and given them a good deal.

Besides, even though the building could hold only a fraction of Promepolis’ Burnish population, Lio’s address would be broadcast on television and radio so that any Burnish who didn’t attend in person would be able to see or hear it. Lio had made sure of it.

The opera house was new, as most things in the now nearly-rebuilt Promepolis were, but it had an air of vintage charm to it. The hallway floors were covered in damask-patterned carpeting, the light fixtures on the walls were decorated with gold accents, and the vaulted ceiling in the theater gave one the distinct feeling that many great people had performed there before, even if that couldn’t be further from the truth. Sure, it might be a humble little place, but no one could say it wasn’t beautiful.

Even the bathroom was pristine, Lio observed upon entering it, taking in the marble sinks and shimmering metal spigots. Pushing their awe to the side, Lio and his generals made a beeline for the sinks and made quick work of undoing the havoc their motorcycle helmets had wreaked on their hair. As Lio wet his hand under the faucet and smoothed the stray strands back into place, he stared back at his reflection, the weight of what he was about to do finally starting to sink in.

In a little over an hour, it would be official: Lio Fotia would be running for governor. It seemed like such a clear-cut decision up until now, but really, what on Earth was he getting himself into?

He must have been wearing his pensiveness on his face, because a moment later, Gueira was patting him on the back. “Hey, you’ve got this.”

Lio offered Gueira’s reflection a half-hearted smile, and as he did, Lio got a good look at the three of them in the mirror, all that remained of the supposed “terrorist” group, Mad Burnish, dressed to the nines. They cut a pretty funny picture, actually, and he was sure that one of them would have already made a joke about it had the situation not felt so serious.

Despite their fancy attire, however, their eyes were still those of Mad Burnish, burning with determination.

The sight caused a thousand memories to flood his mind, and in that moment, Lio fully realized something: He had absolutely nothing to worry about. He had already faced and overcome seemingly insurmountable obstacles as the leader of Mad Burnish. Granted, back then he’d had his Promare with him, but he’d synced so well with the Promare for a reason, right? He had—no, _they all_ had made it this far. Whatever path this election campaign led them on, whatever it threw their way, he, Gueira, and Meis, they’d make it through together, just as they always had.

* * *

The silence was the first thing Lio noticed. As Lio walked onstage, all traces of conversation among the audience died out, and suddenly the only sound in the vast auditorium was the harsh _click-click_ of his dress shoes across the stage floor. He could feel thousands of eyes and camera lenses upon him, watching with rapt attention. Lio was already standing ramrod straight, but the scrutiny made him want to stand straighter, hold his head up higher.

Galo’s words echoed in his mind. _“You’re gonna do great.”_

Lio wanted to prove him right.

As Lio stepped up to the podium, he looked out over the crowd, a sea of faces he couldn’t recognize amid all the stage lighting, but that he knew were familiar. He set his speech on the podium and fumbled a moment with the microphone as he lowered it to his height; then, he took a deep breath.

“My Burnish brothers and sisters,” Lio’s voice boomed through the opera house, louder than he’d ever heard it before. “I stand before you today as Lio Fotia, Chief of Burnish Integration, a Promepolis citizen, and above all, Burnish. I did not make it here, to this podium, alone—indeed, if not for each and every one of you, I would not be standing here today. All of you who are here in this auditorium, those who are tuning in from home, those couldn’t do either—and even those who did not live to see this day—it is thanks to all of you that I am here at all.”

Lio paused for emphasis, letting that sink in.

“I am truly thankful to each and every one of you. Our situation today is more optimistic than I, and I’m sure many of you, ever expected. For years, we were forced to flee from non-Burnish, yet now we live side-by-side with them. It’s like a dream come true. Yet even without the Promare, we are still distinctly Burnish. We feel bone-deep cold on a daily basis, we get sick easily, we burn our hands on stovetops and ovens and cookware...and we miss our Promare.”

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the audience.

“What we have all had to face in the past year is this: being Burnish isn’t just about having Promare; now, it’s about _not_ having Promare. No one says it, but all of Promepolis feels it. Both Burnish and non-Burnish are undeniably humans, but for the past thirty years, the Burnish have led separate lives. In that time, we Burnish have developed our own culture, our own _identity_. That is not something that should be taken lightly, dismissed or overlooked, and the Burnish should not have to give up that integral part of who we are to be accepted in a non-Burnish society. For that reason, Promepolis needs a leader that can represent and protect Burnish interests, someone who promotes a society in which our differences are celebrated, and both Burnish and non-Burnish can live in harmony.

"Such a future will not come immediately; in fact, I’m sure the battle will long outlive me, to be taken up by future generations to come. But the kindness I have seen in this city is real, and it has given me hope that one day, Burnish and non-Burnish alike will be able to freely talk together, play together, laugh together, befriend each other, marry each other. Now more than ever, as anti-integration sentiment continues to grow, it is crucial that Promepolis chooses a leader who will snuff out prejudice before it can take root and infect everything it touches. It’s time we moved on from rebuilding the city and focused on rebuilding human society!”

The crowd went wild. Lio let the crowd’s enthusiasm flow through him, collecting himself for the big announcement, the reason he was speaking here in the first place. When the clapping began to peter out, Lio took one last large breath, filling his diaphragm.

“My brethren: your hopes, dreams, earnest wishes—they guided me when I was leader of Mad Burnish, just as they guide me now. A few weeks ago, you may recall that a popularity poll was conducted. I must say, voter turnout was impressive, as were the results. Be assured, Burnish of Promepolis, that you have spoken and I have heard you. With that in mind, and taking into consideration the results of that poll and the overwhelming consensus that was reached, I am now pleased to announce that I will be running for governor in the 20XX election. Together, let us build a future we can take pride in!”

There was a beat of silent fallout, and then madness. With all the energy of a volcano, the crowd erupted into uproarious applause, utterly unlike anything Lio had ever heard before. The only sound that came close were the death throes of his people aboard the Parnassus, but Lio shook the thought from his head as soon as it surfaced. This was different. This time the only sounds were cheers and cries of _joy_ —a deafening wall of noise crowding in from all sides. It shook the whole theater, and Lio felt the rumble settling deep into his bones.

Lio turned his head to the side, breathless, and caught sight of his two generals just offstage, grinning from ear to ear and clapping. It was only after taking a few questions from the press that Lio found himself walking briskly backstage where he was tackled in a hug by Gueira and Meis. Their combined weight nearly bowled Lio over.

“That was amazing! Gueira gushed, nearly crushing Lio and Meis in a vice-grip.

Meis only nodded in agreement, as if too moved to speak.

Still feeling high from the audience’s approval, Lio didn’t hold back and hugged them both tightly. It was a bit out of character for him to show this much affection in public, but today was a special occasion, and these were his special people. After a few seconds, though, it registered in Lio’s mind that there were only two pairs of arms around him—the muscled third set of arms he had been expecting were missing.

“Where’s Galo?”

Lio withdrew from their embrace, causing Gueira and Meis to turn to each other nervously before Gueira admitted, “Haven’t seen him.”

Lio’s brow creased. “He never showed up?”

“He could have gotten lost in the crowd,” Meis suggested, but it sounded like a weak excuse even to his own ears.

The happy buzz that had been coursing through Lio’s veins fizzled out abruptly, leaving nothing but a cold hollowness in its wake. Lio nodded gravely before clapping Gueira and Meis on the shoulder. “Thanks, you two. Really, from the bottom of my heart. I’m afraid I’ll have to step out for a bit, but I shouldn’t be long. I’ll be back to help with cleanup.” Lio walked past, his motorcycle keys already in his hand.

“Boss, where—”

“We’ll come with you—”

Lio didn’t turn around, only holding up a hand to bring his generals to a halt. “Stay here, you two, and don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”

* * *

As it turned out, Galo didn’t get home until late that night. Lio, who had been sitting up in bed with a book in hand, looked up when Galo trudged into their room and flopped face-down next to him, still fully clothed.

Lio sniffed. “You were at the lake all day.” It wasn’t a question.

Galo groaned, the sound muffled by his pillow. “How did you know?”

“I can smell the pine on you.”

“Oh.”

“Want to talk about it?

Galo stayed eerily quiet, shifting over to his side so that he could lay with his back to Lio.

“Galo...” Lio reached over to gently lay a hand on his shoulder.

That was all it took for Galo to burst into tears. "I'm so sorry!” he wailed, his entire frame shaking. “Please don’t hate me, I’m sorry, I—"

But Lio was already turning Galo over and taking him into his arms, letting him bury his face into his chest as Lio pressed kisses to the top of his head. "I'm not mad, baby, I'm not mad, I don’t hate you, I love you so much." How could he ever hate Galo? If anyone was in the wrong here, it had to be Lio. He had known that something like this was coming, but not so soon. If only Lio had caught on sooner, he probably could have prevented a breakdown of this caliber. Lio combed his memories of that morning for some signal he had missed.

“Shhh, shhh,” Lio soothed, rocking Galo gently.

Galo’s sobs eventually quieted down enough for Lio to offer Galo a tissue. He took the whole box, blowing his nose noisily. Lio didn’t say anything, just rubbed slow circles into Galo’s back.

When he was finished, Galo sat back in Lio’s arms and settled his face in the crook of Lio’s neck. “I wish I had been there,” Galo’s voice sounded hoarse from crying. “I heard a re-run of your speech on the radio, once I was back in the city limits. It was beautiful; I had to pull over to the side of the road and listen to it.”

“Thank you,” Lio practically whispered.

"I don’t know how to make this up to you. I should have been there for you. I _wanted_ to be there for you. But this morning I just...I guess..." Galo's voice sounded small, almost frail. "I don’t know what I...I thought I would be fine, but at the last minute I just...couldn’t do it. I had been putting off putting on that suit, because whenever I thought about wearing it again I was back in that courtroom, back on the stand.”

Lio ran his fingers through Galo’s hair, massaging his scalp. Mentally, he kicked himself. He _knew_ he should have dragged Galo along to buy a new suit with him.

“And that got me thinking about the last time I went to one of those speech things, back when Kray...when he gave me that medal. I know I said I would be okay as long as it was you—and I did mean it—but when I thought about actually going someplace like that again and seeing that lit podium and hearing the cheering audience I just froze up—" Galo's voice had grown tight. “He’s everywhere, Lio. I can’t get away from him. I just had to get away.”

White-hot anger flared to life in Lio’s chest, threatening to engulf him. Even with Kray behind bars, he still continued to hurt Galo, and Lio _hated_ it. But now was not the time for that, Lio reminded himself. What Galo needed now was love and support, not righteous anger on his behalf. Lio forced himself to calm down, but without the anger there to distract him, all that was left in Lio’s chest was a heart that ached like an open wound.

"I’m glad you’re safe,” Lio finally said, covering up the way his throat was constricting with impressive grace. “I know we've discussed this about bedroom stuff, but the same rules apply elsewhere. If anything makes you uncomfortable, and I mean _anything_ , no matter how trivial you think it is—don't do it. You won't be disappointing me. I want to see you happy, Galo."

Lio could hear a strangled sob catch in Galo’s throat.

"We're going to get through this together, okay?"

Galo nodded fervently against Lio's chest.

They sat there in silence, with Galo’s weight resting on top of Lio. Lio had given up on finishing the next chapter of his book long ago, and was content to fall asleep like this, with his arms around a Galo who hadn’t even showered or changed into pajamas.

However, it seemed that Galo was not ready to leave the night on that note. “You know,” he began, “Your speech really was beautiful. I’m not even Burnish, and I almost cried!”

“That good, huh?”

“Even better!”

Maybe his brain was being sluggish (it _had_ been a long day, after all), but Lio suddenly had an idea, and it seemed good enough to say out loud. "Hey, if you’re interested...that is, if you're feeling up to it and you want to, there’s always room for you in my campaign. Right now it’s mostly just me, Gueira, and Meis running the show.” As soon as he had finished his thought, it occurred to Lio how the offer must sound to someone who had been used for publicity in past election campaigns, and Lio rushed on to clarify. “Not for PR purposes or anything! It would just be nice to have you by my side. You know, Lio de Galon and Galo de Lion style."

Galo cracked a reluctant grin at that.

"You could help us design posters, maybe."

Galo just sat there, looking thoughtful.

“It’s up to you, though.”

Galo’s air of thoughtfulness was shattered by a sudden snort of laughter, taking Lio completely by surprise.

“What?”

“I think this is the first time we’ve talked this much since the trials.”

Was it really? Lio thought back and realized that, yes—it _was._ “I think you may be right.”

Lio could feel Galo’s eyes on him, looking up from where his head rested against him. “I’d like to talk more like this. Or just spend time with you, like we used to.”

Lio felt his face heating up. “I’d like that too.”

Galo nuzzled further into Lio’s neck, and Lio pulled up one of their throw blankets to cover them both.

“Maybe I _will_ join your campaign. After all, when we work together, nobody can stop us.” Lio could feel more than see Galo’s grin.

“Oh? Saving the world and politics are completely different ballgames, Thymos.”

“Are they, though?”

No, Lio supposed. No, they weren’t.

“You are something else, Galo Thymos.” Lio leaned back and smoothed Galo’s hair away from his face to press a kiss to his forehead.

Galo grinned, evidently well aware. “Love ya, too.”

Lio tweaked Galo’s nose, making him laugh. But Galo’s laugh was contagious, and it got Lio laughing too.

It seemed that tonight, at least, they had managed to keep the pain at bay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Edit 7/5/20: I will not be continuing this fic. Thank you to everyone who has supported it thus far. Even though this story will never be completed, I hope that what I do have written will continue to bring enjoyment to future readers.**
> 
> **If you want to read more about Lio as governor of Promepolis, I highly recommend the[Lio Fotia Now Rules Promepolis](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1648738) series by Moonsheen.**

**Author's Note:**

> This fic idea is all thanks to the human rights class I took this past semester. While taking the course I began to notice a pattern: whenever an oppressive regime was overthrown, the leader of the resistance movement was almost always elected as president once democratic elections were set up (case in point: Nelson Mandela and Aung San Suu Kyi). So naturally, my promare-rotted brain immediately went, "GOVERNOR LIO FOTIA!!" 
> 
> Plus, there’s just an irresistible and undeniable poetry in Lio taking Kray’s place (and successfully proving himself to be better than Kray in every way).


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